


Restraint

by MyDearStalker



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Biting, Bondage, Dom/sub, F/M, Marking, Medical Kink, Sub Hannibal, domme Bedelia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 14:02:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3612678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyDearStalker/pseuds/MyDearStalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal pushes Bedelia a little too far.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Restraint

**Author's Note:**

> It's ok, they have a safe word!

‘We got to know each other, you and I, didn’t we, Bedelia?’

Frank tilted his head to look to her. His wrists were strapped down on the gurney, giving him little freedom of movement. But a smile crept across his face despite his bonds. He was gloating.

‘I wasn’t aware our relationship was so mutual. I believe the transfer of information was very much one way.’

Since meeting Hannibal, she’d grown increasingly fond of criminal psychiatry, but moments like this made her remember why she originally retired. She hated Frank, their sessions had been nothing but an irritant with occasional moments of terror, and it was a pleasure to see him strapped down. She looked at her watch. Twenty minutes till the police came to take him away.

‘Bored of me already?’

‘I never found you interesting, Frank.’

‘No, you never did, did you? Terrifying, perhaps, but never fascinating.’

She was grateful for the open door behind her. Frank did make her nervous. She was here to sign some paperwork, before his extradition, and that was all. She hadn’t even planned to stay, but Hannibal was running late, and she knew how much he wanted a little chat with the murderer, before he was sent to death row. So here she was, bedside in the hospital’s secure ward, stalling, _waiting_.

She sighed. The things she did for that man.

‘I _am_ boring you.’ Franks voice was suddenly low, a growl. She jumped, senses heightening, an ugly pull of adrenalin coursing through her stomach. Frank was agitated, and when Frank was agitated, he could be volatile.

‘Such a pity I never managed to catch your interest, Dr Du Maurier. Perhaps we never hit on the right topic of conversation. You never asked me about my work. Do you want to know about my work, doctor?’

His eyes glinted.

‘Be quiet, Frank, you’ll only tire yourself out.’

‘On the contrary, I have boundless energy. So much I could almost _burst_ out of these _straps_.’ He punctuated the words with sharp tugs at his bindings. To her relief, they seemed firm.

‘Shall I tell you about the women I killed? Would that interest you? Would you like to know what I did to them before I slit their throats? Do you want to know the details, how they…?’

‘Enough.’

A male voice quietly sliced through Frank’s fevered ranting. She watched with satisfaction as his pupils dilated in fear. Hannibal’s hand rested on her shoulder, his comforting bulk behind her. About time.

Frank watched him, eyes wide, as Hannibal approached his bedside to check his chart.  

‘Not a suitable topic of conversation, Frank, for a hospital. Be civil.’

He looked at her as he walked over to Frank’s bed, his glance a picture of contrition. She wasn’t fooled. Despite her best efforts, Hannibal was rarely truly sorry for anything he did.

She watched him run his eyes over Frank. He’d mentioned he wanted a private conversation with him before he was taken away. Private obviously included her. She didn’t permit him to keep secrets. She had no idea what he wanted with Frank: he wasn’t his client for long before Hannibal referred him to her.

Frank looked between her and Hannibal. He pulled his lips over his teeth. ‘Well, well, well. The happy couple together.’

It took Bedelia a moment to register the statement. She flinched as if she’d be slapped. ‘I beg your pardon?’

Frank giggled. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, did I betray a confidence? Lecter and I had such _nice_ chats, before he referred me to you, of course.’

Bedelia stared at Hannibal, her glare promising pain.

‘He loves how _nervous_ I make you. Likes to watch you squirm. Why do you think he was late? It _amuses_ him.’

Bedelia rose, white with anger.

‘Do you mean to say this was intentional, Hannibal?’

He didn’t meet her eyes, looked expressionless at the chart. His face was still, unreadable. Her's was a picture of fury.

She walked up to him, put her face close to his, and spoke in a threatening whisper.

‘Answer.’

‘Ooooo,’ Frank laughed. ‘You’re going to get it now, boy.’

Hannibal backed away from her, placing the bed between them.

‘I know what he likes, I bet he did this on purpose. You haven’t whipped him in ages, have you? Have you been neglecting him, Bedelia?’

Bedelia was speechless. A tinge of red brushed Hannibal’s cheekbones. He held her gaze. She advanced on him, her muscles tensing, ready to tear him apart right there, to take his clothes off and spank him right in front of the convicted murderer.

She lunged across the bed, but Hannibal was quicker. A deft hand had reached down to undo one of Frank’s straps, unseen.

Impossibly fast, the murderer’s arm raised up to grab her by the shirt. She peeled his hand off, practiced, but not quick enough to stop Hannibal undoing the rest of his bonds. She gave Hannibal a brief withering glance, catching him smirking at her playfully, before the slim, sickly form of Frank advanced on her. She _would_ have to pick a man whose idea of foreplay was trapping her in a room with a convicted murderer.

Frank’s grin was predatory. She felt her hackles rise. She knew what she looked like. Slim, short, easy to put off balance in tall, impractical heels. Let him come. Subduing him would be a pleasure.

He lunged. She stepped aside, tripping him, grabbing him by the shoulders as he fell to pin him on the floor. She fell onto his chest, rested her knee firmly on his neck.

She breathed heavily. She wanted to crush him, her hand hovered above his throat, trembling with temptation. She wanted to hear him scream. She heard the emergency buzzer press behind her.

Two policemen came rushing in. They dragged her off Frank’s cowering frame, hauling the man to his feet. Swiftly, they marched him out of the room. It happened too quickly for Frank to even struggle.  

She turned towards Hannibal, who was smirking in the corner by the buzzer.

‘Please. Close. The door.’

‘Admit it. You enjoyed it.’

‘And lock it.’

His eyes danced in amusement, but he did as he was told.

‘What were you thinking? Get on the bed. ’ She hissed, once the door was closed.

He loosened his tie, hung it over the rail, did the same with his jacket, pre-empting her commands. ‘In my defence, he guessed much more than I revealed.’

‘Did you want to push me? Is that was this was?’

He sat on the edge of the gurney, working on the last of his buttons. ‘I merely wanted to give you what I knew you badly wanted.’ His voice bore a tone of innocence. ‘You limit yourself, dear one.’

She grabbed him by the ear and twisted till he winced. ‘And for that you should be grateful. I don’t need your interference. I can sate my own desires whenever I like. For that, I have you.’

She dragged him down by his ear until he lay on his back. With a degree of finesse, she strapped him to the table. It was something she’d done many times before, in a professional context, as had he. He stared up at her, eyes glittering.

She shook her head. His spirit was part of his charm, but he could go too far.

‘You need a lesson in restraint.’

He shrugged into his bonds, happily. She turned, began rifling through the draws and cupboards in the room. He’d crossed a line, and she was disappointed, not at the betrayal of confidence, but because he felt like he had to push her. A little part of her was disappointed in herself. If he’d wanted…more…she should have picked that up. She usually did. Still, she’d been distracted lately, and now there were consequences for her inattention.

She found a sharp scalpel on a medical tray. Without preamble, she sliced through his clothes, as accurate as any surgeon. It wasn’t her specialisation, but Hannibal had often remarked that she had the sort of precision the discipline required.

He’d learned not to protest at the butchering of his clothes. It had taken her time to beat that out of him. The muscles in his jaw still clenched, however.

‘Bedelia, have you thought this through?’

Her eyes flashed. She levelled the scalpel at his throat, made his chin rise with the pressure. He knew her well enough to know it wasn’t an empty threat.

‘Whether you walk out of here naked or not makes no difference to me.’

He averted his eyes.

She tore his clothes back, as if she were shelling a pea. The room was cold, and goosebumps littered his flesh.

‘Are we going to have a repeat of last month?’

‘No, Doctor.’

‘I hope not.’

Not that she didn’t enjoy making him sleep bound at her feet, giving him so little to eat, preventing him from release for so long. He made such lovely, pleading sounds.

She looked at him, so bare and vulnerable on the table.

‘I should wheel you out of here for everyone to see.’ She muttered, running a cold hand up his thigh. He closed his eyes, and let out a small breath.

‘Did you tell him about us?’

‘Do you mean Frank?’ he asked.

She grabbed his chin and forced him to look at her. ‘By all means, be coy. You know how I love that.’

‘I’m afraid Doctor-patient privilege is still in effect, at least until the execution.’

‘I see.’

She climbed on top of him, straddling him, skirt riding up. She bent down to plant a small kiss on his chest. He moaned.

She loved the way he felt beneath her. Muscular and tamed. She ran her hands up his chest, feeling his smooth skin. She would punish him, of course, but the adrenalin was still pumping through her veins, anger unsated, and she deserved a little fun.

She placed her hand on his cock, stroked until he moved his hips, his nipples hardening. His hands clenched under the cuffs.

She lifted her hips and slowly slid down onto him, hair falling across her face. He gasped. She remained still, feeling her muscles make small movements around the length of him. She looked at his face, and ran her nails down his chest, leaving long red marks. He thrust his hips into her, and she slapped him hard across the face, hard enough to make is head snap to the side.

‘Control yourself.’

She kept her hips perfectly still. He always found this difficult. Hannibal was used to getting exactly what he wanted. She loved to see him denied.

‘Let’s talk about your patient, _dear one_.’

She cupped his sore cheek with her hand and he turned to kiss her palm.

‘I want to know what you told him about us, and I want to know why you were late this evening.’

He laughed softly, panting. She thrust once with her hips, and he arched his back. She felt him pulse inside her.

‘I told the truth.’ He smiled, sweat glistening on his forehead. ‘He guessed.’

‘I see. And after he guessed?’ she placed a threatening hand on his neck, applied the slightest amount of pressure.

‘It was useful. In the interest of his therapy, I may have divulged some information….That was meant to be private.’

His hands clawed at the table.

‘In the interest of his therapy. And you were late because….’

‘The traffic was just terrible.’

It wasn’t even a good lie. He would regret pushing her this far.

‘You know how insistent I am that you tell me the truth, Hannibal. I want you to remember that you could have avoided this.’

She bent down and licked his neck, before gathering the skin between her teeth. She bit hard.

His eyes flew open. ‘No!’ He jerked at the restraints. She pinned him down harder with her hips. He felt amazing when he struggled. She rubbed the red spot on his neck with her thumb.

‘You don’t like that, do you?’

‘No.’

She knew biting made him uncomfortable. It wasn’t the pain he struggled with. It was lying there beneath her, compliant, submitting. Everyone had something they found harder to bear than anything else. She remembered a girl she once owned who found nails on her skin to be particularly humiliating. She made sure she never left the house without red marks down her back.

She bent again, gathered his nipple between her teeth and stretched it until he yelped. She released it with a nip, and he cried out.

She ran a hand over his chest, and moved her hips slowly, feeling a rush of heat through her body. She spoke as she moved, head back, voice deep with pleasure.

‘I’m going to mark you, Hannibal. It will be noticeable. People will ask. You may tell me the truth in your own time.’

Bedelia could multitask. She could please herself and punish him.

She increased her pace, losing herself to pleasure. She thrust roughly, gasping at the sensation of him against her. She bent down and bit savagely, spurred on by his cry of pain.

‘Stop, please.’

She undid one of his restraints, grabbed his hand and pressed it between her legs, encouraging him to toy with her. Her hand covered his mouth, and she bent to hold his earlobe between her teeth. Pausing, she listened to him struggle to breathe beneath her hand. She held her mouth in place until he whimpered, then bit. He tried to speak, beg.

‘Is there something you wanted to say?’ she removed her hand.

‘Fine.’ He breathed, chest rising and falling rapidly. ‘Fine. I wanted to see you vulnerable. I knew he rattled you, it’s why I referred him in the first place. I wanted see you scared and savage. You’re beautiful like that.’

His hand worked her, making her face flushed. He broke quickly. He must abhor her teeth more than she expected. She smiled.

She bent and bit his neck, sucking hard, aiming to leave a mark high near his jaw. As she pulled away, she felt him pulse inside her, and grabbed his chin.

‘Don’t you dare.’ His hand was skilful, and she moved faster, lowering her mouth to his shoulder. He tasted of sweat and fear. She could feel his pulse. She was breathless when she pulled away. ‘Don’t you dare come before I’m ready.’ She noticed he had tears in his eyes.

‘I told you what you wanted to know, stop.’

‘That wasn’t our agreement.’ She moved quickly on him, pinching the skin on his stomach. His hand fell away as he moaned, and she grabbed it, bit the inside of his wrist almost hard enough to draw blood.

‘ _Please_.’ He whined. She replaced his hand between her, and he continued, the pleasure inside her building until she came with a long moan, thighs clenching around him almost hard enough to hurt.

She slowed, bracing herself with her hand against his chest, flushed and breathless.

When her breathing slowed, she climbed down, pulling at her skirt. Still flushed, she gathered gauze from the medical table, and used it to clean herself from him. He seemed sore beneath her hand. He bit, licked his lips, knowing that she would never satisfy him. She looked at the marks she left on his body, a collection of red spots and bruises he would see whenever he looked in the mirror. Which was often. The man was vain. She clasped his free hand in hers, and spoke close to the skin on his jaw.

‘You wanted to see me vulnerable. Is this something you will do again?’

She bit the thin skin above his bone, sunk her teeth in, listening to his moan of pain. He grasped her hand tightly. After long seconds, she released him from between her teeth, and stroked his hair, calming him.

‘No. No.’ He replied, emphatically.

 ‘Good boy.’

 

 

 

 

‘

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> give me a kink prompt! I shall fill it. swansandtyphoid.tumblr.com


End file.
